What Will Our Reunion Be Like?

The following article was published ten years ago, prior to our 30-year reunion. The Andrew Warde High School Class of 1976 will celebrate its 40-year reunion next Saturday, July 23. Let's take a trip back in time and read from an entry 10 years ago:

It seems to be a night for women. Dresses are glitzy. Slacks are tight. The women not only outnumber their male classmates, they have more sparkle. I imagine motel rooms all over town smelling of fingernail polish, rooms with bathroom mirrors designed for Dorian Gray. Mirrors that, regardless of the passage of time, reflect one's image as an 18-year-old. Mirrors that echo how we see ourselves, not how we really are. Never old, never sick, never unhappy. As we break into Sly Stone's "Dance to the Music," women pull men onto the dance floor.

Women not only have more sparkle than men, they also dance much better. These women seem to inhabit rhythm, unconsciously moving easily to the beat, bodies conjuring up old memories of a soft touch, childbirth, love. The men had some difficulty with rhythm, searching for it, counting it out, keeping score, killing spontaneity, gyrating self-consciously into what I call "the catfish," a human version of flopping around in the bottom of a Mississippi River fishing boat.

Not yet 50 years old, most of the dancers look terrific. Only a few of the really sweaty ones look as if portable defibrillators might be in order. One certainly doesn't attend class reunions looking for great truths or answers to anything beyond "I wonder what so-and-so looks like?" If one is looking for depth or serious meaning, a better bet might be church the following morning. Class reunions are small slices out of time, unattached to reality, not dependent on anything but good will, a few grins and perhaps a little alcohol.

The dance floor fills up and I start singing Neil Young's "Harvest Moon." Anne and Kim add angelic harmonies and Dave plays a tasteful rhythm guitar. "Come a little bit closer, hear what I have to say; just like children sleeping, we could dream the night away." Couples snuggle up, swaying without speaking.

Aaron takes over a microphone and dives into Steppenwolf's "Born to Be Wild." I smile at the notion of that particular song being popular out here in small-town Iowa, towns where crime usually involves smashing mailboxes, writing bad checks or stealing flowers from gravesites. By graduation day in 1976, the U.S. had been officially out of Vietnam for a year. Consequently, these kids were among the first to face a future without their nation being at war with someone. Any anxiety they harbored was probably personal, not global. It would be many years before the U.S. entered another war.

The room warms as dancers come and go, opening doors to the summer furnace outside. Danelle on sax and Felicia on trombone power us through Buddy Miles' "Them Changes," while Curt sings "Well my mind is going through them changes ... everything goin' to be all right." Gotta believe that.The night ends as it began; we reprise "Play that Funky Music." Pat rips into a soaring guitar solo. We all sing full voice, including the dancers, "Lay down that boogie, and play that funky music 'til you die." Couldn't have said it better myself. Sage advice on a hot summer night."

Paul